They Knew
by PixieKayGirl
Summary: Kathryn Janeway has come to a realization that will change her entire arrangement with a friend she's been helping for months. Third part in a currently-4-part series, the other three parts of which belong to another writer. Details within.


_A/N: This story takes place between two stories in a small series written by Laura W. It's possible to enjoy on its own, but a lot of details will make a lot more sense if you at least read the first story, "Are You Lonesome Tonight?" If you want to read the whole series, I recommend them in this order: Circles, Are You Lonesome Tonight?, They Knew, Rain. All of them except this story are written by Laura W._

Kathryn had to call Jens.

It was not something she was looking forward to. He'd been true to his word, letting them have the weekend for her to help Chakotay with his PTSD, and then, when she called at the end of that and said she knew this was going to take a lot more of her time, leaving it up to her to reach out to him when she was ready.

She called Jens to tell him when they returned to Starfleet Medical for further evaluation that Tuesday. SM counselors had cleared Chakotay to stay nearby but not at the hospital proper, as long as the Doctor still attended him every night. Kathryn had pulled a few strings and got permission for him to stay in her guest room at her townhouse. The permission for this had involved the Doctor's assurances to the counselors that being with Kathryn was certainly a greater balm for him than anything the counselors could do, and perhaps the counselors could see the effect she'd had over that weekend because they didn't put up too much of a fight before agreeing to the arrangement.

This arrangement had come with a price, however, in the form of an extremely awkward conversation with one of the counselors. "This must remain strictly platonic. He can only stay in the guest room, not in your room. I'm sorry, Admiral, but it bears emphasizing, any upset to his routine in the way of forming a romantic attachment right now would severely compromise his recovery. He has too many personal demons still haunting him. He has to work through a lot more of those before he'll be ready for such a thing."

Kathryn hadn't even tried to hide the offense these words had awakened in her. "I have a boyfriend, thank you very much. I told my former helmsman and I'll tell you, after seven years in the Delta quadrant and a lifetime of memories, I'm probably the closest thing to stability he's known. Our quarters were next to each other then too, and yet there was no romantic relationship. If there wasn't in those seven years, I assure you there most certainly will not be while I'm helping him recover. How dare you suggest such a thing?"

The counselor hadn't backed down. If anything, his resolve seemed almost strengthened. "Nevertheless, I do have to mention it. Especially because of the . . . closeness . . . that you two share, combined with the traumas he's experienced and the tendency in PTSD victims to seek romantic relationships for the sake of feeling something, anything. And it would not be a good start to a relationship. It never is. Almost every relationship formed when someone is still in the midst of the worst parts of PTSD is doomed before it even begins. I would particularly hate to see such a thing happen to you two."

"Well, _sir_ , as I've said, I'm already in a relationship, and if you knew _anything_ about me you'd know that I will remain faithful to that. What's more, the Doctor will be with us at night, and during the day, I'll be making sure he gets to his appointments and then going to the office while he's there, taking him for walks in public areas as per _your_ suggestion when he's not at appointments, and I'm sure I'll still have more work to be catching up on every evening. In fact, as I understand it, the amount of time I'll have to invest in ensuring he has the calm, relaxed environment you recommend will mean that there would hardly be time for anything else even _if_ we were so inclined, which, if I may reiterate, we are _not._ "

She'd turned on her heel and stalked out.

Remembering it now, sitting in front of her comm console, she closed her eyes, rubbed her forehead, and groaned. He knew. That counselor _knew_. How did he know what she herself hadn't even known?

She sighed. That wasn't true. She'd known. She'd known and suppressed it for so many years that she'd managed to hide the truth from herself.

The past several months continued to play over in her head. At first she had called Jens every couple of nights after Chakotay was in bed. The very first night, she'd explained their living arrangement, and that she couldn't have Jens come over because it would upset Chakotay's routine. She couldn't say much about what he'd been through, of course, and Jens had understood that. But perhaps there'd been enough grimness about it in her face that he knew just how much Chakotay needed her then. He never pushed, but gave her the space she'd needed. She assured him that she'd love it if he came to visit at her office while Chakotay was in counseling, and maybe with enough time the three of them could all have lunch together. Jens had actually winced slightly at that idea and she'd quickly said, "If you wanted to meet him."

"I'm not sure he'd want to meet me, Kathryn."

She had tilted her head in confusion. "No, not right now, but when he's feeling better . . . ."

Jens had simply shaken his head with a small smile. "I very much doubt it, but I suppose stranger things have happened.

The first night, shortly after she hung up with Jens, she'd heard screaming from Chakotay's room. She knew the Doctor was there so she didn't worry about it. But then the screaming intensified and she found herself opening the door anyway.

"What are you doing in here?" the Doctor had asked in a loud whisper. She suspected he would have been angry but he was busy holding down a sleeping but flailing Chakotay, preventing him from flipping himself off the bed. He was clearly doing his best to honor Chakotay's request for no sedatives, but it wasn't going to make for easy nights.

Kathryn had stared for a moment, wide-eyed, but then she'd started moving. Almost without knowing she'd done it, she crossed the room, arrived at his side, and placed her hand on his forehead. Slowly, she worked her fingers back and forth and began whispering words he'd taught her long ago. She knew she couldn't pronounce them right, but she whispered them nonetheless. "Cha-ka-na hi-mee. Banda. Cha-ka-na hi-mee. Banda." She whispered it over and over, rubbing her fingers lightly across his forehead, tracing her thumb through the pattern of his tattoo at his temple.

And after a minute, he settled back into a fitful sleep. But still she stood there, rubbing his head, whispering, until the Doctor, not wanting to risk having her leave, brought a chair and placed it next to the bed. He stood at her side for a moment, watching as Chakotay settled even more, then tilted his head. "I don't find those words in the universal translator. Are they from his medicine wheel ceremony?"

She shook her head, eyes on the patient's face, hand on his head. "No. And no, you wouldn't find them. The Rubber Tree People that Chakotay's tribe is descended from worked hard to keep their language secret. The most ancient parts are different enough that the Universal Translator can't decipher them, and the tribe has always sought to prevent their being added manually." She smiled slightly. "He taught me those words after we found the planet with his sky spirits-you remember? He sat down with me and told me the whole story of the last time he'd visited a jungle like that with his father. They mean 'calm down' and 'peace.' Several times over the years, when one of us was upset about something on the ship, the other would lean over and whisper those words, and while it never fixed things, it somehow seemed to keep us grounded."

"I see," he said, and there was an odd inflection in his voice that seemed to insinuate something else he wanted to say, but before she could ask him about it he said, "And rubbing the forehead? Is this part of it?"

This time she looked up at him and gave a slight smile. "No, that's an only Janeway family trick for putting babies to sleep. My grandmother taught me to use it on my little cousins, and my sister and I have both used it with her kids. I figured if it works on children maybe it would work in adulthood too." She gazed back at her charge's face. "Maybe there just aren't enough adults with someone there to rub their forehead when they have trouble sleeping."

He'd put a hand on her shoulder. "Maybe you're right."

The next morning she'd awoken to a stiff neck and back, her hand still resting on Chakotay's forehead, an afghan tucked around her. The Doctor was standing in the corner going over some information on a PADD. At her movements he'd looked up and smiled. "Good morning," he whispered. He immediately came over and gave her a hypospray. "To ease your stiffness," he whispered. "If this is going to become a regular thing, perhaps we should find a more comfortable chair, maybe one that reclines."

"Technically, one of the conditions of his being here was that we don't go to bed in the same room."

He shrugged. "You won't. Your bed is in another room, and in here you'd only be in a chair. And you can always go to bed there and come in here only if he needs you. In theory, the nightmares should decrease over time." He smiled slightly. "Should any of the counselors ask, the truth is that your bed and his are in different rooms, and you never sleep in the same bed. Frankly, I don't care what the prudish counselor said, I know you're good for him and I've witnessed the effect of this firsthand."

So that's what they did.

And the next time she called Jens, she conveniently never mentioned it. Because the counselors were supposed to believe they were in separate rooms so they wouldn't assume a romantic relationship, she told herself. But Jens would never have told anyone. She knew that too.

She groaned and leaned forward, rubbing her hands across her face. The Doctor knew. He had known the whole time. Oh boy.

The intervening several months flashed through her memory at warp speed. Quietly talking about anything and nothing, conversations they'd had a million times on Voyager about favorite foods and childhood memories. The counselors said this was good, that he could talk about the heavy stuff with them and she could provide the stability of familiar and pleasant conversations.

Quiet dinners. Slow strolls arm-in-arm. All part of his recovery.

Him improving steadily, faster than the counselors ever expected. The Doctor's nightly presence eventually no longer being necessary, though she still often slept in the chair by his bed, sometimes with a hand on his head, sometimes with his hand in hers. Being cleared to walk in parks, to be in the presence of children again as long as he wasn't actually _with_ the children.

Discovering her copy of _Dante's Inferno_ that he'd borrowed years ago and never returned, with her name in the front smudged out, and his adorably embarrassed explanation that this was not at all from any attempt to remove her name, but rather from a tradition of running his thumb across it once each time he opened the book. The tears that came to her eyes at this confession.

As Chakotay improved, Kathryn was supposed to have more time to call Jens, but somehow the calls decreased in frequency. Every few days became once a week, which became once every couple weeks.

Until now, when it was a full month since their last call. Jens hadn't called her. Hadn't pushed. He'd been true to her word the whole time.

She hadn't been true to hers. Oh, she'd never cheated on him. Not physically. Only emotionally, mentally, a million times, as a love she'd thought gone forever proved itself to only have been hibernating deep within for a while.

A week ago, as she and Chakotay were strolling through the park arm in arm, watching the children play, Chakotay was finally relaxing and able to express a renewed wish to have children of his own. The fear for them was finally subsiding, he said. She thought what a great father he would be to their children.

 _Their children_.

And she realized at that moment that she needed to call Jens.

Then she put it off for a week.

No more. No more delays. She took a deep breath, gathered her resolve, and made the call.

His impossibly perfect face filled the screen with a warm smile. "Kathryn! How lovely to hear from you."

She smiled as well as she could. "Jens. Hi. Um, how are you?"

His face immediately fell. "Ah. We're here. I've been waiting for this call."

She started back slightly, alarmed. "What? What call? What do you mean?"

He smiled again, but tightly this time. "No, Kathryn. I've known it was coming, but I'm not going to let you get out of saying it."

He did know. That counselor had known, the Doctor had known, and Jens knew. He knew when she didn't know. He knew and was just waiting for her to know. This man deserved so much better than she could give him. Tears sprang to her eyes. Normally she would fight them off, but there was no point, not now. After all she'd put him through, she could afford to let him see the emotions that churned within her.

"How long have you known?"

"Which part? You have to say it, Kathryn."

She swallowed. "That I love him."

"Ah, that part. Since the night he showed up in Dublin. When we got back to our room you were livid that he'd shown up, that he'd bought wine for everyone, that he'd existed. You went back into your old rage about his not being at your mother's funeral, but there were others who weren't there. If you didn't already know why, you'd assumed the best. They'd intended to but something prevented them. You even called one or two to find out."

She closed her eyes. He was right, she had. "But not him."

"Not him. It was utterly unfathomable to you that he hadn't been there for you. Him, specifically, beyond anyone else. In fairness, I should have known then, but somehow I didn't put it together. I knew you two were close friends and I assumed the hurt was just deeper. Well, it was, but I didn't realize why or how much until he'd shown up. You wouldn't even let me introduce myself to him, practically forbade everyone to speak to him except Tom, who only went to keep him away from you. It seemed . . . well, too strong a reaction for his missing your mother's funeral. And then you left our room to go find him and talk after all."

"But I didn't even find him. He was gone."

"It doesn't matter. You preferred to give him a chance to explain, despite how angry you'd been, than to stay in bed with me. That spoke volumes. Not that you wanted to give your friend a chance, that didn't surprise me at all. But that you felt the need to try to sneak out after we were in bed, after you thought I was asleep."

She nodded. "I'm sorry, Jens. I care so deeply for you. I've tried to talk myself out of loving him. I know he can't even love me right now."

He opened his eyes wide. "You haven't even told him, have you?"

"Without talking to your first? Of course not! I wouldn't - Jens, I wouldn't cheat on you!"

He nodded. "I know. Other people may not, other people may question these months of his living in your house, but I know you better than that. But I honestly didn't think you would make this call until you were sure you were secure with him."

She frowned at that. "Am I so needy that you think I can't be without any man?"

"No. No, I think you can't be without him, and any other man isn't to keep you going, it's to keep you from running to him before you're both sure it's time."

She sighed. He was right. Again. "It doesn't matter right now. The counselors said he shouldn't start a romantic relationship until he's cleared of certain points in his PTSD." She paused, then had to ask. "And the other question? How long have you known this call would be coming?"

He smiled tightly again. "About two days after I left you in Dublin. When you called to tell me you weren't helping him only for the weekend, but long term. And that he would be living in your house. I knew from the concern in your face and the love in your eyes that you would be calling to break it off eventually."

"Why didn't you, then? Why did you let me string you along?"

He gave a snort. "Who could ever tell the great Kathryn Janeway what to do?" It wasn't malicious, but a bit of hurt showed through the joking tone he used. "No, I knew you needed to come to this on your own. I didn't want to force the realization of your feelings on you, even if the entire Alpha Quadrant and, I suspect, much of the Delta Quadrant already knew." He took a deep breath. "I've had months to adjust and heal from my broken heart, Kathryn. Especially as the calls came less often, and lasted less time." He smiled wryly. "Well, I may have been partly responsible for the shorter calls. I couldn't force the break on you, but I couldn't bear to talk to you that much either." He took another steadying breath and forged ahead. "So don't worry about me. You know I've never cheated on you either, but I've kept my options open. You just . . . just make a good life for yourself, okay? For both of you."

The tears streaming down her face were clouding her view of him. She wanted to blink them away, but somehow it seemed fitting. He'd been clouded from her view for some time and now was drifting away forever. So she just lifted a hand toward the screen as though she could touch him right through it. "I'm so sorry. I do care for you deeply, Jens. In another life, I think we could have made each other happy for the rest of our lives. But you deserve better. You deserve someone who loves you deeply, unconditionally, and without another love in between. Find her, Jens. Okay? Be happy."

He smiled, and through her tears she thought she might have seen a few on his own face. "I care deeply for you too, Kathryn. And . . . I'm not sure, but I may actually have found her already. At a party a few weeks ago." He arched an eyebrow. "I told you I kept my options open. I'm glad I can finally call her because if you didn't come to this realization soon, my resolve may have wavered and I may have broken it off first after all."

"I deserved it."

"No, you didn't. You didn't know. I'm glad you do now." He smiled a little bigger. "And I was going to say you should make sure someone else does to, but I suspect he already does. Good bye, Kathryn."

"Good bye, Jens."

The comm screen went blank, and she sat back and allowed a few more tears to fall. A hand rested on her shoulder, and she started, then leapt out of her chair to face him.

"Chakotay! What - how long have you - I thought you were napping!"

"I was. I woke up a minute ago." He wrapped her in a hug. "Did he break your heart?"

A short burst of wry laughter burst through her tears. "No," she whispered into his chest. "No, I thought I was going to break his, but it turns out I already did, quite a while ago, and I didn't even know it until he'd already healed."

"Then why are you crying? There aren't many people who can break up with someone and learn that the other person has already healed."

"Because . . . oh, because so many things. Because he's too good and understanding to be real. Because he deserves better than what I've given him. Because I can't-" She told herself to pull away from him, that this was not a good idea, but somehow her body ignored her instructions and leaned into him instead.

He rubbed her back for a moment, comforting her, then whispered, "Because you think you can't have what you want."

She nodded, and whispered. "Not think. I can't. They told me I can't. Not yet."

He pulled away from her slightly, just enough to look into her face. "They told you when I moved into your guest room that we can't have a relationship, didn't they?"

She nodded. The tears continued to stream down her face. He wrapped her in his embrace once more.

"Do you know how long I've loved you, Kathryn?" The words were so simple, a question about a fact rather than an admission of amorous intent. He'd never told her, but she knew he loved her, and he knew she knew. She shook her head. Then nodded her head. Not the precise moment, but she knew all the same.

He continued. "From the moment I saw you on my viewscreen, I had an instant appreciation for your beauty. From the moment I appeared on your bridge and you stepped between me and Tom, I was smitten. Angry, but smitten. And from the moment you destroyed the Caretaker's array, I knew I would love you forever. I tried so many times, in so many ways, to deal with that, when I thought we would spend our lives on a ship that kept us close yet never able to be together, and then when we got back and everything went topsy turvy. The counselors know it all. They know how I tried to stay by your side and take care of you without ever asking for more. They know how our friendship strained and nearly broke toward the end. They know about my self-destructive path, starting with Seven and continuing through all the drinking and carousing with women after we returned to the Alpha Quadrant. They know about how I accepted the position Major Kira offered as Starfleet's undercover agent based on DS9, not entirely because I was done running, but because it gave me a channel to run through, and possibly a different way to destroy myself." He pulled back and looked at her again. The tears were still streaming, but the wondering look on her face reminded him of another time he'd seen tears run down her face like this. "They know of New Earth. How I all but told you then, how close we came to a relationship then, how you seemed to bury it more than ever after we got back to the ship. And they know that through it all, I've never stopped loving you." He gave a hollow laugh. "One of them said that was also self-destructive. They wanted me to find a way to get over you. They didn't want me to stay here, not until they saw how much you'd helped me in just one short weekend. And they questioned me regularly to ensure we didn't have a relationship here, not while the symptoms were still so bad."

She nodded. "That's why they told me." Her voice was huskier than usual, and certainly much less controlled than usual. "That's why they were so insistent about not forming a relationship. They already knew."

He nodded back. "They knew. But last week . . . ." He pulled away, walked over to her bay window, shoved a hand roughly through his hair. "Last week when I had that breakthrough of realizing I actually want children again without being so sure they'd be . . . ." He took a steadying breath and she recognized the habit of gathering himself before being able to say what he'd seen. She already knew by this point, but also knew it was important for him to be able to acknowledge it aloud. "Without feeling guilty at the idea, after seeing those children killed as a direct result of actions we took. Without feeling so sure that I would lead my own children to death at the hands of psychopaths too." He took a breath again, forcing the anger down. The anger was good now that he was directing it at the parties responsible, not the whole race and especially not himself. "When I had the breakthrough and I told them I couldn't imagine having those children with anyone but you, they said they thought I'd reached a point where pursuing a relationship could actually work. I reminded them that you were still in a relationship, though, and . . . ." He shrugged and turned to face her, quirking a slightly embarrassed smile. "I told them I'd waited 8 years and could wait however much longer you wanted. At one time I couldn't wait anymore, but now . . . now I can. Now that I know it's not a fleeting thing, but a love I will have for my entire life, I can wait however long you need me to."

She took one step closer to him, her eyes wide. A million questions filled her mind, but one above all the rest. "They . . . they said it's okay? The counselors really cleared you for . . . for romance?" It sounded so awkward but she couldn't figure out how else to say it. A relationship? They'd had one of those for a long time, in every way but the one they clearly both wanted most. A girlfriend? She'd been able to call Jens her boyfriend because he was, she realized, still a boy in so many ways. A very sweet, kind, insightful one, but a boy. But she hardly felt that she could class as a girlfriend.

But it didn't matter what she'd called it because he knew. He nodded simply and said, "Yeah. They really did. I just didn't know if-"

He didn't finish his sentence. She was across the room and in his arms, her lips smothering his before she even realized she'd just broken the no-sudden-movements rule she'd been so careful of for months. But from the way he pulled her to him and the way his lips reciprocated, she suspected it didn't matter.

She started pulling back, just enough to mutter between kisses, "I love you. I love you Chakotay. I've loved you for so long. So long. I didn't know. I didn't know how much."

"I know," he whispered, also punctuating his words with kisses. "I've always known."

"When you said you wanted children I wanted them to be mine."

"I know. So did I. But we should probably get used to being like this with each other first."

"And you need to spend more time one-on-one with them. You need to experience actually being with children in person."

"I know," he replied, and finally broke the continuous string of kisses and pulled back to stare into her eyes. "I have an idea about that."

She traced a finger along his jaw and then around those gorgeous, full lips that she'd just been attacking, finally, after so long. "And what's your idea?" she asked as he turned slightly to kiss her finger.

"How often do you think we could get away with taking Miral from the Parises? Just for an hour at the park one day, maybe a couple hours when I can work up to it. If it gets to be too much I'll step away, and you'll still be there to take care of her. What do you think?"

"I think it's perfect. But first-" and her mouth resumed its exploration of her love.


End file.
